


nothing can touch us (my love)

by falseidolls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falseidolls/pseuds/falseidolls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is full of crazy ideas and Zayn can never say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nothing can touch us (my love)

**Author's Note:**

> because [this](https://twitter.com/Louis_Tomlinson/status/328487003928788993) is a thing that happened

Zayn is sitting half awake on his couch, a warm, sleepy Louis sprawled out on top of him. His hand plays absently with Louis’ hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands and pushing his fringe out of his face.

They just finished watching The Avengers for the tenth time. Their movie, as they like to call it.

“You’re totally Tony Stark,” Zayn says, like he does every single time, a smirk on his face and his hand warm against Louis’ ribcage.

“And what does that make you? Pepper Potts?” Louis asks, his eyes not even leaving the television as the credits keep rolling.

“If that’s what it takes. At least I’d be better than Gwyneth Paltrow.”

Louis turns his head toward Zayn’s and looks at him for a minute, as if he’s trying to imagine him as a red headed secretary. He brings a hand to the side of Zayn’s neck, his fingers cold against the skin there, and says, “Much better,” pulling him down into a kiss.

When they part, Louis rests his head back on Zayn’s chest, finding a home right over his beating heart.

Zayn finds himself thinking about his childhood, about the superheroes he wanted to be, the superpowers he wanted to have. He was always a child with a vivid imagination, picturing himself saving the innocent, killing the bad guys, and getting the girl.

“Hey Lou,” Zayn whispers, not sure if the boy breathing loudly on top of him is asleep yet. Louis rubs his face against Zayn’s shirt and lets out a noise, meaning I’m not sleeping but if you would shut your mouth I’m almost there.

But Zayn isn’t tired anymore, his thoughts and memories loud in his head. “Who was your childhood crush?”

The sleepy boy in his arms opens his eyes and lifts his head, trying to have a good look at Zayn. “You mean like the girls on TV that I fancied?”

Zayn nods, pulling his lips into his mouth and wetting them, and Louis puts his head back on his chest, grabbing his right hand and playing absently with his fingers.

“The pink Power Ranger was fit,” he says after a minute. “Or Daphne from Scooby Doo.”

Zayn laughs quietly, his entire body shaking under Louis. “You wanted to take her away in the Mystery Machine?”

Louis snorts out a laugh, “Yes, actually. Coolest van in the world right there.”

Zayn sighs, overcome with memories from when his life wasn’t so hectic, when all he had to do with his days was to have fun and fantasize. “Yeah, always wanted to take a ride in the damn thing. Zap! We’re driving around in the Mystery Machine.”

Louis sits up quickly, wide awake, and looks at Zayn dead in the eye, a determined expression on his face. Zayn learned to both love and fear that expression, it usually means trouble.

“Know what we should do, Zayner?” he says, a playful tone in his voice. “Let’s buy a Mystery Machine.”

“Yeah, and solve crimes,” Zayn replies, faking enthusiasm.

Louis moves around to face the other, and grabs his face between his hands, forcing Zayn to look him in the eyes. “I’m serious, Zayn.”

“You look like a crazy person,” Zayn says because, well, Louis’ eyes are wide and bright, his smile borderline manic. “And stop squeezing my face, oh my God!”

Louis’ hold relaxes and he leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Zayn’s mouth.

“Listen. We’re young, we’re beautiful, we have dreams, and most importantly, we have money. We can do whatever the hell we want.”

“And what exactly do you want to do with a Mystery Machine?”

“Drive around? Road trip?”

“Louis I can’t even drive,” Zayn says. “And how do you expect us to be able to go anywhere without getting recognized or followed?”

Louis’ face falls and he sticks a finger in the middle of Zayn’s chest. “Stop,” he pokes once, “being,” he pokes again, “such a killjoy.”

Zayn grabs his hand, entwining his fingers in his to keep him from poking him again. He’s probably going to have a tiny finger shaped bruise there later.

“You usually fantasize with me. What’s up with you?”

“It’s just a stupid idea,” Zayn says, not expecting the sad eyed, trembling bottom lip look Louis gives him next.

He cannot, and will never be able to resist this boy.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get ourselves a Mystery Machine.”

*

They’re on tour the next time Zayn hears about the van. He’s in his bunk, listening to music on his iPod. Life has been so chaotic lately that alone time is rare and precious.

He’s humming along to Frank Ocean’s Forrest Gump when Louis draws the curtain back and climbs into the bunk with him, his legs tangling with Zayn’s, their bodies slotting into one another like they were made for it. Louis fits his head in the space between Zayn’s neck and shoulder, his arm circling him and resting on his stomach. It feels natural, it feels right, and Zayn instantly feels better.

They stay like that for a while, not saying a word (because Louis has come to learn that Zayn needs moments alone with his thoughts) until Zayn takes off his headphones and kisses Louis’ forehead.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Louis says, his lips pressed to Zayn’s neck. He waits a minute before he talks again. “What would you say if I told you I found some place to get our Mystery Machine custom made?”

Zayn raises his head, looking at the boy hiding in his neck. “You’re kidding.”

When Louis’ only response is a small bite at his shoulder, Zayn disentangles himself from Louis’ hold and asks again, “Are you serious?”

“I was always serious about this, Zayn. I called them and asked if they could do it and now all they need is for me to call back and tell them what I want in it.” He bites his lips, a small smile creeping at the corner of his mouth. “Now get back here, I’m cold.”

Zayn complies, taking Louis back into his arms, holding him tighter than before. He asks,

“What do you think about leather seats with our initials stitched into the headrests?”

*

They’re sitting side by side in the back of the van, slouching in the leather seat (Partners in Crime stitched across the back), Louis’ head resting on Zayn’s shoulder. They’re both looking up towards the roof of the van, stars visible through the sunroof. Or at least as visible as they can get through the thick cloud of smoke swirling around them.

Louis blinks, his eyelids heavy, lazily bringing the joint back to his lips and taking a hit before handing it to Zayn.

“The van’s going to smell,” he says around a mouthful of smoke.

Zayn takes one last hit before dropping the remnants of the joint into a half empty bottle of beer at his feet. “It was your idea to hotbox the Mystery Machine, Lou,” he points out after exhaling, the smoke dancing around in the air above them.

“Hmh,” is all that comes out of Louis’ mouth, his hand rubbing into Zayn’s thigh and inching closer and closer to his crotch.

Their jackets and hoodies are all over the floorboards, along with their shoes and Zayn’s snapback, thrown blindly around the van as soon as it got too hot in there.

Zayn chances a look at Louis’ hand, watching the way his fingers rub more warmth into his body. His eyes trail over the bird inked into the other’s forearm, up the rest of his arm and to his neck, and to the low cut of his tank top, revealing the words forever marked into his skin.

It Is What It Is

Zayn desperately wants to mouth at this soft skin there. He licks his lips, unaware of the fact that Louis is watching his every move.

“Zayn,” he says softly, his voice catching in his throat. He’s attentive to the way Zayn’s eyes travel up to his mouth, hungrily watching the way Louis’ lips move around his name. “Kiss me.”

Zayn’s eyes meet Louis’ and he nods, inching closer until their mouths are slotted together. His breathing goes deeper, his heartbeat quickening as his lips move against Louis’. Their noses bump gently, the drugs fogging up their brains, and Zayn brings a hand to the side of Louis’ face, the tips of his fingers sliding into his hair, and carefully tilting Louis’ head, fitting their mouths together again in a deeper kiss.

He can feel the warmth of Louis’ skin, his cheek burning up against the palm of his hand.

Their lips continue to slide over each other, tongues trailing wetly over one another. Zayn disentangles his fingers from Louis’ hair, sliding down his neck and shoulder, tickling the skin of his bicep before settling on his hip. Louis’ hand his on Zayn’s shoulder, gripping him tightly because he knows what’s coming next. Taking that as a cue, Zayn grabs hold of his hips and lifts him into his lap, Louis’ legs on each side of his, straddling him.

Louis’ hands are instantly in Zayn’s hair, desperately trying to bring him closer. They’re both panting into the kiss, their breath mingling, tasting like smoke and beer and youth, warm like the rest of their bodies burning for each other.

Louis lets out a moan when Zayn’s hands find their way under his tank, the skin contact overwhelming, making their hearts skip a beat or two.

“Want you closer,” Louis says breathlessly into Zayn’s mouth, biting his bottom lip before running his tongue over it.

Zayn lifts Louis’ shirt over his head and throws it away, and helps him remove his own, pressing their bare chests flush together, the touch so good that Louis throws his head back in pleasure, exposing his throat to Zayn who latches onto it, sucking a bruise on his pulse point.

The van is filled with the wet noises coming from Zayn’s lips working against Louis’ neck, and little whimpers coming from Louis’ mouth.

Zayn runs his tongue over the fresh love bite, the shape of his mouth marked into Louis’ skin in the same way Louis’ ZAP! is marked into his.

Louis looks at Zayn, his eyes bright and beautiful, and grinds down on his crotch, making Zayn gasp and dig his fingers into Louis’ hips.

There’s a knock on the door before it opens, the smoke escaping into the night air into a thick cloud, making it much easier to breathe.

Danny is standing outside the van, not even commenting on what he just interrupted.

“Can’t believe you just hotboxed this thing without inviting me,” he says.

Louis’ head falls to Zayn’s shoulder and he buries a giggle in the crook of his neck, not even bothering getting off his lap.

Zayn clears his throat. “Is there something you need, Danny?” he asks through his teeth.

Danny’s eyes widen, finally becoming aware that he just interrupted something. “Uhm,” he starts, “How much would you want to kill me if I told you I was just bored alone in there?” He points to his and Zayn’s house. 

Zayn groans. “Get out of he–”

“Actually,” Louis interrupts, getting off of Zayn’s lap and reaching for his shirt on the floor. “I’m suffocating in here.” He puts the shirt back on and bends down towards Zayn, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He hops out of the van, kisses Danny on the cheek and heads towards the house.

When Zayn jumps out of the van and locks the doors, Danny is still waiting for him, a cigarette between his lips.

“So that’s what the van was for?” he asks, amused. “To get high and fuck your boy?”

Zayn really doesn’t have the time or energy to argue about this and prove him that that’s not it, that he and Louis bought the van so they can retreat from the world and just be. But he’s high and horny and unamused, so he snatches the cigarette from Danny’s lips before saying, “Yes, that’s exactly it. And it’s off limits for you, Riach.”

“Fine, Malik. It probably already stinks in there anyway.”

When Zayn gets in the house, Louis is fast asleep on the couch, curled up on himself, silent and angelic. Zayn gives Danny a sorry mate, not gonna hang out tonight look, to which the other shrugs before heading to the kitchen.

Zayn carries Louis’ sleeping form to his bedroom, laying him delicately on the bed and heading for bathroom to take a leak and brush his teeth. He feels strangely sober all of a sudden.

When he walks back into the room, Louis’ eyes are open and he smiles when he sees Zayn, making room for him to get into bed with him. Zayn climbs in and pulls the covers on top of them as Louis rolls around, pressing his back to Zayn’s front. Zayn lays a hand on Louis’ stomach, his thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“Do you know why I love our Mystery Machine, Zayner?”

Zayn presses his lips to the back of Louis’ neck, breathing him in. “Tell me.”

“Because it’s ours. Only ours.”

And Zayn thinks, yes, this is ours, and you are mine.

And as he listens to Louis’ breathing, feeling his chest rise and fall against his body, he thinks back to his childhood again, and realizes that even with all his dreams and fantasies, young Zayn would have never thought he’d be this happy.

After all, he got the boy at the end.


End file.
